Page 71 of Saints & Sailors

“This was really nice, Scott,” I told him, offering up a smile.

He softened up. One minute he could be on guard with me, and the next he was completely vulnerable.

I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but I decided to give him a chance.

Scott wasn’t my enemy. He was my father.

I could only hope his motives were pure. “You’re not, like, sick or anything, are you?”

Scott was mid-sip of his orange juice and ended up coughing. “No, why would you think that?”

“Just in case you were going for some feel-good Hallmark moment by stepping back into my life, in which case that would be really shitty.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I mean it.”

Scott held his hand up. “I’m perfectly healthy, minus a few beers, scout’s honor.”

“Good.” I went and began making myself a plate, taking some of everything.

The pancakes were soft, fluffy, and just heavenly. Totally worth getting up early for.

“I want your trust, and I want to trust you as well,” Scott went on. “I intend to be an open book here. I’m not perfect, I fucked up when I was a kid, and I think now is everything. Now is our time to connect and build. No tricks, no gimmicks, no bullshit.” To further push his oath, he held his hand out. “I’m here now, Saylor, and no matter what comes, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

My heart ached at his words. At how desperate I was to hear them. To have somebody stick by me no matter what. Only time would tell if he could honor them.

For now, I placed my hand in his and shook.

“Why don’t your friends know about me?” I asked.

“Shame,” Scott admitted. “Not of you, but of myself. It’s not that I wanted you to be a dirty little secret, but it’s not something I can openly talk about without revealing too much. When I was twenty, I got a girl pregnant, that’s the truth in black and white, and it’s not pretty. I was a coward, and I ran, abandoning my responsibility.”

This fact made me slightly protective of Scott.

“For the longest time, I wasn’t ready to have this conversation about you. Mentioning you would come with the fact that you weren’t in my life and we had no communication. I had a daughter out in the world I didn’t know or had no contact with. That’s not something to be proud of. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do these days, but I think I’m ready.”

I hardly knew Scott, but just like with Dreux’s father, René, I felt an unconscious need to step up for him.

“Or maybe you don’t owe anyone an explanation,” I said. “What happened is between our family.”

My words drove Scott’s dark eyes over to me. “Family?”

Right, it was such a funny word. “Yeah. I don’t want anyone judging you over what happened. People make mistakes, and that’s in the past. Now is everything, right? And now I’m here, you’re here, and we’re building.”

To further prove my point, I reached out and placed my hand on his.

This touched Scott, a sense of relief falling from his shoulders as a soft smile invaded his features.

“Hey, I was digging around and I, uh, found this.” Scott pulled what looked like a picture from his shirt pocket. “Just thought since you know the bad, it’d be nice to show you the good.”

He handed over the picture and I held it out, examining it, feeling goose bumps prickle my skin.

It was from a time before. Scott’s hair was longer, he was in a simple black T-shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt. He was noticeably younger, less muscular, and just radiant. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at her. My mother was caught up laughing at the lens, so happy I could feel it. Together, the pair was at some table, in a booth, I could tell by the vinyl seat behind them. It was so lowkey, nothing special jumping out at me, but it seemed so like Mom to go against the grain. She didn’t need fancy dinners or golden plates. She was just happy to be there against Scott. They were young and in love.

My parents.

“Can I…can I keep this?” I stammered, unable to process the emotion overwhelming me, the feeling of needing this photo to have as my own.

Scott accepted the photo back and stared at it, his eyes running over every inch of it. “It’s the only one I have, of her, of then.” He spoke softly and distant, as if he weren’t speaking to me at all. And then he blinked, forcing a smile on his face as he turned to me. “Tell you what, I’ll make a copy for me, and I’ll let you have this.”

Slowly, he let the photo go and went back to his meal.